


Difficulty in Friendship

by Oilan



Series: A Dilettante in Fur [2]
Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: A tabby cat - Freeform, Canon Era, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2616152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilan/pseuds/Oilan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is difficult to obtain the friendship of a cat. It is a philosophical animal... one that does not place its affections thoughtlessly."<br/>-Théophile Gautier</p><p>Joly discovers a shift in his pet's devotion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Difficulty in Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Clara](http://feuillyova.tumblr.com) for the beta!

The visit was expected to be brief. Enjolras had only said, or rather _insisted_ , that he would come by to retrieve the final copy of Joly and Bossuet's co-written pamphlet and take it to the printer's. Joly had insisted in turn that Enjolras should not trouble himself, that he was _perfectly capable_ of taking the paper to the print shop himself. But Enjolras would not be deterred and after all, Joly was _certainly_ extremely busy with studying and it would be _absolutely no trouble_. Perplexed, but concluding that this whole business was some peculiarity of Enjolras' he did not quite understand, Joly had relented cheerfully enough. It would save him a walk at any rate.

It was not as though Joly did not enjoy Enjolras' company in situations other than political meetings. The occasions Enjolras could be persuaded to attend the theater or accompany the rest of his friends to a café for pure enjoyment were some of the most wonderful, and Joly reveled in the close companionship of their entire group at once. Nor was Joly one to force anyone out of his rooms, no matter the time. However, on this particular night, Joly had saved enough of his allowance to take Musichetta, Bossuet, and himself to the opera – a treat when much of one's money went to buying cadavers – and Enjolras had been in Joly's flat for nearly an hour.

Presently, Enjolras was seated on the settee, Joly's rotund orange cat, Gilbert – after the English physician and physicist William Gilbert – curled in his lap. He had cupped the creature's face in both hands and was scratching under its chin. The cat lay in a state of palpable bliss. Both remained oblivious to Joly's increasingly opaque hints that he and Bossuet needed to leave for Musichetta's. He had stood. He had, with exaggerated movements, slipped on his shoes and tailcoat. He had remained standing in the center of the room, deliberately awkward – and remained unnoticed. Bossuet, for his part, sat with his feet propped on the table next to a half-dissected arm and surveyed the scene with amusement, completely unconcerned with both the time and the numerous glances for assistance Joly threw him.

After some time, Joly grew desperate enough to loudly blurt out, “We are going to see _Zampa_!” Enjolras looked up at him at last.

“ _La fiancée de marbre_? Yes, I believe Combeferre had mentioned-”

“ _Yes._ ” Joly cringed inwardly at his rudeness, but they really were running quite late. “Yes, and it is long past time that Bossuet and I should be leaving here, actually. So-” Enjolras' eyes flicked to the clock on the bookshelf and he reddened slightly.

“Oh. I... hadn't realized I had been here for quite that long. My apologies.” He set the cat on the ground – with some difficulty, as it endeavored to cling to his trousers with all its might – and rose. Gilbert gave him a look of such astounding despondency that Joly was hit with immediate guilt.

“It's no trouble at all, really. Take care in getting back to your place.”

With a quick nod Enjolras departed, and Joly, upon closing the door, felt a hand upon his shoulder.

“It seems Enjolras is quite taken with your cat, after helping Combeferre look after him,” said Bossuet. At that, Joly could only shake his head, perplexed.

“It's odd, isn't it? I was under the impression that Enjolras was largely indifferent to animals. To most things, really, apart from our group and the Republic. Well.” He reached down to pet the cat, who had seated itself in front of the closed door. “Well. Gilbert is a very affectionate and agreeable animal. Aren't you, Gilbert?”

Gilbert neither welcomed Joly's touch nor rebuffed it, but after a moment of gazing at the door in silence, slunk into the bedroom and under the bed.

Joly, adjusting his cravat and donning his hat, attempted to suppress a peculiar feeling of rejection.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Joly woke to hazy but not unpleasant memories of the night before and to a sharp rapping at his door. Head throbbing, he pulled on a dressing gown, discarded in a corner, and fumbled with the pocket watch left on the bedside table. Half past seven on a Saturday morning. A wretched hour.

After closing the bedroom door halfway so as not to disturb Bossuet and Musichetta, Joly noticed immediately that Gilbert had already positioned himself in front of the entrance leading to the landing. The cat's purring was audible from several meters away, leaving no doubt as to who was on the other side of the door. Joly fought the uncharitable urge to turn around and go back to bed.

Enjolras blinked down at him once the door was opened, the cat stepping on Joly's toes to wind itself around Enjolras' legs, looking up at him adoringly. Joly experienced yet another uncomfortable pang of dismay.

“Good morning, Enjolras. What can I do for you today?”

“Good morning. I hope I am not intruding.”

“Of course not.” It was a polite lie. Enjolras, surveying the state of Joly's dress and the disheveled state of the half-visible bedroom to his left, could not possibly be unaware of that fact. Regardless, he did not address the situation further and instead brought forth a small package wrapped in newspaper from the inside of his frock coat.

“I will not be long. I merely wanted to give this to you- for the cat. He appeared rather diminished when I saw him yesterday.” Here Joly glanced down at his cat, who seemed as corpulent as it ever had been. “I thought perhaps he might need something different to eat.”

Inside of the package were a few fresh herring. Joly, despite the headache and the confusion and the lack of sleep, smiled as Enjolras bent down and Gilbert happily gobbled up one of the fish from his hand.

“That's very thoughtful, thank you. He does seem to like them, doesn't he?”

“He does.” Enjolras smiled as well and handed Joly the remaining wrapped fish. “Well, I should leave you to... dress for the day.” He lingered on the doorstop for slightly longer than was proper, stroking Gilbert's head, before departing down the stairs.

Fully awake now, Joly chuckled. “You and Enjolras have been conducting a secret love affair while I've been away, haven't you?” he said to the cat. Gilbert wandered away from the door to sit in front of the sofa, cleaning his face with a paw. Joly sat down on the old rug a few meters away and pulled another herring from the paper wrappings. He wriggled it in the direction of the cat, and was completely ignored.

“Gilbert!” Joly had to repeat the cat's name several more times, each more high-pitched than the last, before Gilbert looked back at him. “Come here! Look, it's your very favorite thing.” The cat stared at him, but did not budge. Nettled and disheartened, Joly eyed the cat for a few more moments, hand outstretched, willing the animal to approach to eat the fish and perhaps even nuzzle his hand, but to no avail. He supposed it was possible Gilbert was simply not hungry after eating the first fish, and so rose, set the package on his desk, and turned toward the bedroom to get a few more hours of sleep.

As he slipped under the covers next to Bossuet, he heard a dull _thud_ and the distinct noise of rustling paper.

 

* * *

 

“Is there something wrong?” Combeferre's brow was furrowed as he set down his parcel and surveyed Joly. “You seem very put out, my friend. Is it the quality of this hand I brought you? It was the best I could find on such short notice; I thought it would be sufficient for your studies, especially considering you already have this old arm here.”

“No, no- it's quite a suitable hand.” Joly did not elaborate and continued to appear uncharacteristically morose, and so Combeferre prompted him again.

“Are you having trouble reviewing for your exam?”

“No. I'm quite confident I know the anatomy of the hand and forearm at this point- and that will be the most difficult bit. It is merely-” Combeferre looked at him expectantly, and Joly continued sheepishly. “It is merely... Enjolras.” At Combeferre's raised eyebrows, he hurriedly added, “It's nothing so terrible, really. It is only that he has been around quite a bit lately. And I am not complaining about that. _It is only_ that Gilbert is so very fond of him and now ignores me-”

“And _that_ is the reason you are upset?” Combeferre eyed him, unimpressed. Joly prodded the hand absently and did not meet the other's gaze, instead looking over to the sofa where Gilbert had laid himself atop Combeferre's scarf, purring loudly.

“I mean. He has a habit – and one he would certainly avoid if he were aware of it, mind – to drop by at the most inconvenient of times, you see.”

Combeferre continued to scrutinize him for several uncomfortable moments but then broke his gaze and huffed, gathering up his hat and satchel from the settee, and then moving to extricate his scarf from beneath the cat.

“I will speak with him on the matter.”

Joly smiled gratefully. “Oh, thank you, Combeferre.” He gave a relieved little laugh and nodded to Gilbert, who had dug his claws into the scarf and appeared adamant about not letting go. “At the very least, he seems to hold some affection for you as well- not _only_ Enjolras.” It was Combeferre's turn to look sheepish.

“Actually, I _borrowed_ this scarf today.”

Joly's smile faltered.

 

* * *

 

“You- you _cannot_ steal Joly's pet.”

Combeferre's words had been voiced in a more accusatory tone than he had meant them. He had been laying on his side in bed for a good stretch of the evening, watching Enjolras read next to him and mulling over how best to broach this particular subject. Enjolras merely frowned slightly and did not remove his gaze from his book.

“I am not attempting to steal the cat.”

“No, you are _succeeding_.” Combeferre sighed. “Listen to me. You cannot merely visit Joly's rooms whenever you like- he has his own business to conduct there and may not be open to disruption.” He experienced a twinge of guilt at the harshness of his admonishment. “Enjolras, there are several cats living around Hôpital Necker; they are very friendly and accustomed to people. It would be extremely easy to coax one back to your room. If you would like, I could-”

“I do not want those cats.” Combeferre wondered if he had imagined the emphasis Enjolras had put on _'those'_. After a tense pause, Enjolras spoke again, mildly. “I swear to you that I will not visit Joly without his knowledge and permission first. Are you satisfied?” He still had not looked up from his book. Combeferre frowned.

“Not particularly.”

 

* * *

 

“I- I just don't understand it!”

“Jolllly! Calm down. This whole situation is making you quite unlike yourself.”

Bossuet looked upon his friend, sitting on the floor for the countless time that week in some mad bid to make his own pet bestow upon him any sign of affection. It seemed all in vain. Bossuet himself remained unconcerned with whether the cat loved him or not; as long as it did not destroy any of his already-shabby possessions, he was on good terms with it. It was clear Joly was of a different mindset.

“What is it that he has done for you that I have not? I, who took you in and feed you and ensure that you are warm and happy! In _two weeks_ he has been able to win you over from me. Why?”

Gilbert, curled beneath Joly's desk, heartlessly ignored the pleas from his owner and turned his back on the scene disdainfully. Bossuet sighed and sat on the floor beside Joly, who was staring at the back of the cat's head in disbelief.

“Joly, you are addressing the cat as though it is a person. The cat does not mean to slight you by ignoring you; this is normal feline behavior. And yes, this cat has a habit of walking on one's face early in the morning, and stealing food from one's plate, and vomiting on one's difficult-to-clean rug instead of one's easy-to-clean floor, and-” He broke off at Joly's expression of despair. “Oh listen to me, Jolllly. At the very least, it has only scratched up half of the sofa instead of the whole thing.” Joly buried his face in his hands.

“Gilbert loved me once, but Enjolras has stolen him from me- in sentiment rather than physically, true, but what does that matter?” Bossuet was suddenly hit with the unfortunate realization that he was required to be the staid one in this particular situation. He wrapped an arm around Joly's shoulders.

“What was it you said to me a week ago? You were astonished to discover that Enjolras held affection for something as mundane as a household pet; you thought it was something noteworthy.”

“This never would have happened when we first met him,” Joly grumbled.

“No, it would not have happened. But now, years later, it has. Don't you think we should be happy? That we should encourage it? Imagine... austere Enjolras, who takes but little enjoyment from this world – very unlike you and me- wholeheartedly smitten with a cat. And the cat loves him back. Do they not deserve happiness together?”

Joly sighed and, as if sensing his pinprick of guilt, Bossuet squeezed his hand gently. “Oh, I know. Bossuet, I know. You are in the right, of course.”

Bossuet grinned. “Dearest Joly, I am _always_ in the right.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as Enjolras opened the door to his room, Joly unceremoniously deposited Gilbert into his arms, and then tried not to chuckle at his expression of bewilderment.

“Joly, why have you-”

“I have an exam!” Joly announced. Lest he break his serious expression, he did his best to ignore Combeferre sitting at the desk behind Enjolras and hiding his face with an open book, which shook slightly as though he was suppressing a bout of laughter. “Yes, a most challenging exam, and I find myself alarmingly unprepared for it. I have set aside all distractions; I have sent Bossuet to stay with Musichetta. The only obstacle remaining is what to do with poor Gilbert, who requires more love and attention than I am able to provide for the next week! I have sprung this upon you without notice, but if you could look after him for me for a short while I would be forever grateful.”

Enjolras adjusted his hold on the cat, who was squirming happily upwards to rub its face against his. “Yes. I can manage it for you, certainly.”

“Excellent!” Joly beamed. “I will be in your debt, my friend.”

He gave Gilbert one final pat on the head and turned to leave, and was certain that out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Enjolras' brilliant smile.

**Author's Note:**

> William Gilbert, the namesake of Joly's cat, was an English physicist, physician, and natural philosopher, known for his book _De Magnete, Magneticisque Corporibus, et de Magno Magnete Tellure_ published in 1600 and is considered one of the fathers of electricity and magnetism. A unit of magnetomotive force was named the 'gilbert' in his honor.


End file.
